That the Blumir duchy, which already had an owner, would go to Lumière. Even the words that that woman who resembled Madame Marguerite might become Bastian’s mother.

Amaryllis bit her lip hard.

She wouldn’t just sit quietly. Absolutely not!

* * *

Valentine walked aimlessly to the imperial palace’s rear garden and stopped in front of the pond. As she caught her breath, all sorts of sounds washed over her. The sound of bare branches swaying in the wind, the sound of rippling water…

Valentine lowered her eyes and gazed at the pond.

The pond she had once filled with alcohol now only rippled with green waves. Instead of wine glasses floating on the pond, she could see the fins of fish swimming gracefully. The fish jumped above the surface upon discovering a human shadow, as if expecting food.

Yes, this was the natural scenery.

Valentine stretched her hand over the pond. The cyclamen she had been holding was offered to the pond.

Plop, following the delicate purple flower, gentle ripples created waves on the surface. Green reflections sparkled. The beautiful ripples that washed over the surface gently embraced the flower becoming one with the pond, before returning to foam together.

“……”

There were two things she could never have.

One of them, something she had once desperately longed for, no longer held any place in her heart. She had completely abandoned it, letting go without a trace of desire.

But the other one…

The winter wind brushed against her cheek as clouds drifted across the dark sky above.

Even the clouds were pushed by the wind, heading somewhere unknown.

Though time had become years and everything else had become past memories, this pain alone, which she thought would pass, couldn’t flow into the past with everything else.

Valentine bit her lip hard and looked up at the empty sky. Her reddening lips moved.

“Lu.”

The demon who always guarded her side appeared suddenly. He stared at Valentine with blood-red eyes.

Lucifer showed no particular reaction to her call. He simply reached out and pulled Valentine into his arms.

Her delicate body fell into his embrace. There was a touch stroking her fine hair. Though cold, it gave Valentine endless comfort and reassurance.

As always, this demon knew exactly what she needed right now.

The veins stood out in her hand as she clutched Lucifer’s chest. She trembled.

“…Tell me.”

“What?”

“The child… Since I’ve never seen them, they’re not with you, right? Right?”

That pitiful soul couldn’t be in hell. It shouldn’t be.

Yet, as if afraid to hear an unknown answer, Valentine quickly continued.

“Can’t I meet them?”

Her voice was choked with emotion. Her eyes welled up again.

Though it was natural that she couldn’t meet them, strangely, that reality was deeply sorrowful.

Perhaps it was because she had encountered Bastian face to face. Because he had conveyed warmth, conveyed his voice, and thus told her he was alive.

A child who had received life at the same time as her child.

“I want to at least tell them I’m sorry for not protecting them, that it was my fault…”

The tears she thought had stopped burst forth. Her fragile shoulders shook.

The demon who had been offering silent comfort suddenly turned his head. At the end of his red gaze was a human shadow.

Deep blue eyes cast down. The face staring endlessly their way wasn’t wearing a particularly good expression.

At that moment, the demon’s smile deepened.

It was the pathetic figure of a man obviously overflowing with lingering attachment to a past love. Seeing overlapping images, ruminating on past days, endlessly longing for days that could never return.

It seems that, as she thought, she wasn’t such an insignificant existence to that man. Perhaps that man instinctively sensed it too. What she was.

But whatever the case…

“Master.”

The demon pulled her closer into his arms demonstratively. As he caressed her lips, he left a cold breath. When their lips met, he felt the faint vitality she held. Unbearably sweet and bitter.

Lost in old memories, she clung to him without doubt.

This fallen soul was his. Absolutely no one else could covet it.

* * *

Cassian watched the two from afar.

The imperial palace’s rear garden was one of the places where Valentine used to be. Standing there, it felt as though Valentine had returned, as if their presence lingered in the air once more.

There were hands embracing her heavily heaving shoulders. The man said to be one of Lumière’s subordinates suited the word sinister well. Though eerily beautiful, there was something strangely gloomy about him.

Their shadows were reflected in the green pond. A crying woman and a comforting man. The woman with a white and pure atmosphere and the somewhat subdued man made a well-matched pair.

Lovers, perhaps?

At least they seemed to have a special relationship.

Yet watching their intimate appearance was painful.

Unfortunately, Cassian Pendragon knew the name of this familiar feeling well. The terrible displeasure he felt whenever he saw her with Astaire. The desperate jealousy that made him clench his fists and grit his teeth.

It wasn’t particularly pleasant. Then why was he feeling this way again now?

Because she resembled her?

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought of Valentine. The delicate nape he saw at the noble’s banquet. The familiar curve of her spine… Though he didn’t show it, his blood boiled at that achingly familiar shadow.

Just now, the sight of her holding Bastian, her fair chest fully exposed as she sat. That single moment when he wanted to be the one to wipe away her bitter tears…

No, he even believed that the person meant to caress those cheeks had already been decided. After all, he was the only one who could reach out to the Valentine of that time.

Thus a more fundamental question existed within him.

Were they different… people?

If they were different people, why did he care about this woman with whom he had no relationship with and had only met a few times? Why did his heart ache at her crying face? Why did he think he alone should be able to touch her?

There was something more unpleasant and messy than simply missing Valentine. Especially this familiar discomfort now.

Then were they the same… person?

Liam had said she claimed to be Valentine. But seeing her attitude, there was a high possibility it had been distorted.

As Amaryllis had said, the scar that Cassian had caressed many times didn’t exist. Above all, dead people could absolutely not return to life.

His eyes, holding a complex light, sank. Then, as if sensing his gaze, the man standing in the distance raised his head.

Their eyes met. The man showed a chilling smile. As if mocking him.

Soon the woman snuggled closer to the man. Something broke inside Cassian. Miserably.

* * *

Time, impartial to all things, paid no attention to individual circumstances.

Before winter ended, Bastian Pendragon’s fourth birthday approached.

The first title was bestowed upon the prince, the imperial family’s only descendant. Though the conferment was somewhat late, the Emperor broke everyone’s expectations and made his son the Count of Saint-Germain. The Holy Father, who appeared in Gabrienne after a long time, certified the conferment of the title.

‘Count of Saint-Germain…’

At the gathering where nobles offered congratulations and gifts, Amaryllis inadvertently let out a hollow laugh. Terribly enough, Lumière had been right.

Then the position that would soon go to Lumière…

Amaryllis clenched her fist tightly. Her trembling hand betrayed her feelings.

His son Bastian was merely a count, while his sister Lumière would become a Duchess. Of Blumir, no less.

The disparity between big and small, heavy and light. Naturally, it made Amaryllis’s stomach turn.

“Your Highness, happy birthday.”

Meanwhile, that eyesore, Belle Laure, who appeared with the detestable Lumière, handed over a neatly wrapped present with a bright smile. According to Lumière, she might soon drive Amaryllis away and become Bastian’s mother.

To take Bastian away from Amaryllis, who was the most precious thing in her world…

‘……’

And incredibly, Bastian, who had been sitting quietly on Amaryllis’s lap until now, jumped off his seat. Ignoring his mother’s burning heart, he threw himself into that woman’s arms.

“Sister.”

“Bastian!”

Bastian paid no attention to Amaryllis calling him in an almost screaming voice. He burst into giggles, clearly delighted.

He resembled his father to an eerie degree. Both his face and his actions.

“Your Highness, have you been well?”

The woman holding Bastian asked with feigned kindness. The incredibly innocent Bastian nodded with a bright smile.

At this truly stomach-turning sight, Amaryllis spoke sternly.

“Bastian, come here.”

“Huh?”

“Now.”

“No.”

At her son’s words, Amaryllis almost gaped in shock. Barely containing herself, she murmured calmly.

“You’re troubling Mademoiselle Laure.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all.”

Every word and action from the woman grated on her nerves. At her words of approval, Bastian familiarly kissed the woman’s cheek.

The woman smiled sweetly and unwrapped the gift she had brought. Soon a ceremonial sword adorned with jewels was revealed. Under the chandelier light, the various gems embedded in the sword sparkled brilliantly.